Torture in the cafeteria
by ThePorridgeEatingNinjaTurtle
Summary: An insight of Jasper's painful and agonising struggles with blood in Forks High School's cafeteria.Set at the beginning of the novel Twilight in Jasper's viewpoint. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!


Note: I do not own the Twilight Saga or any characters!

The aroma of warm, fragrant blood is overwhelming in the cafeteria. It swirls and dances freely around the room, oblivious to my avid desire for it. It teases me, taunts me, asks me if I would like to taste just one little drop…but alas, I can't. Satisfying my thirst would mean slaying an innocent human- not that _I_ particularly care for humans anyway.

There is nowhere to hide in this damned cafeteria. No dark abyss to wallow in, or a magically appearing doorway to miraculously escape through. Just one large, ordinary rectangular room, filled with tables and chairs, careless and arrogant adolescents, the stench of processed meat and, of course, blood.

What I would do for one, just one, small drop of blood. Why, I would kill.

Edward glares darkly at me as I think this. As the talented mind reader he is, his ability to hear the thoughts of those nearby is a useful, admirable and…extremely irritating skill to possess. With his frustrating skill, Edward usually ensures that my extreme thirst for blood doesn't evolve into some frenzied massacre. Like now, for example.

And right now, all I want is blood. After two tortuously long weeks without any blood whatsoever, I don't think that blood is too much to ask for. My family knows my boundaries, yet continue to excessively push them: it's so blatantly obvious that my cravings for blood are unbearably strong.

A blunt statement: I am _extremely_ dangerous right now.

The term dangerous meaning I am on the verge of ripping every single human in this God forsaken prison to shreds, consuming their absolutely delicious blood in the process.

Does that make me a monster, having an unnatural and disturbing desire to slay every living thing, to enjoy the cruel deed, to savour it? Yes, that quality does in fact contribute to me being a lifeless, villainous monst-

And just as I was beginning to wallow in my hole of self-pity and suffering, loathing every inch of myself, a small girl casually walks past our table, carefree and at ease, to talk to a friend on a neighbouring table. She absently runs her slender hand through her short and sandy stringy hair, unaware of what is to happen. The nearby heater blows her scent in my direction, and suddenly…I am no longer myself.

I am a predator, animalistic and vicious, ready to ensnare my prey and its blood.

It shall be simple and swift, yet effective. I'll rise from my seat, making an excuse to receive some much needed fresh air. Then I shall stand next to it, the girl, and ever so slowly, I will crane my face down to her ear, as if to whisper to her a special secret. My lips shall fall to the arch of its throat, and for one small moment, just one, I can savour the warmth of the pulse, oh yes, the blood flowing freely under its fine, translucent ski-

The fantasy ends with Edward sharply kicking my chair.

I meet his steely gaze only for a brief moment, yet I can feel the emotions radiating unintentionally off his body. Guilt, pity, understanding, the list is endless. All I can feel is shame. And that is all. With all the guilt and pain and embarrassment and anger and, not to forget, madness.

With his gaze still locked onto my black, not red, eyes, I mutter a quick apology.

"Sorry."

Edward merely shrugs, and directs his gaze to the chipped plaster on the ceiling.

"You weren't going to do anything," Alice murmurs, attempting to make me feel like an actual person rather than the bloodthirsty monster I am, "I could see that."

Yeah, right. Edward fights the grimace that desperately urges to appear on his lips. His discomfort with Alice's lie is obvious, but what is he to do if he doesn't play along. Is he meant to say something along the lines of, "No Jasper, you were going to suck the blood out of that poor girl"?

"It helps a little if you think of them as people," Alice continues rapidly, her voice increasing in pitch with every word. "Her name is Whitney. She has a baby sister she adores. Her mother invited her to that garden party, do you remember?"

"I know who she is," I reply icily. The shame and embarrassment of discussing my…weakness has become too much to bear, and with no further hesitation I turn my back to the table to look through the small window adjacent to the table. My attitude expresses that I do not wish to further take part in the conversation, hence the conversation concludes.

But my relentless thirst for blood? Ha! Unfathomable, of course.

My thirst will never cease, I am sure of that. I have always been sure of that. Regardless of my dedication and effort to tame it, I shall always desire blood…with a passion.

An epiphany: My entire existence revolves around blood. Everything I say, everything I do- blood is always involved. It is permanently indented into my mind, and no worthy distraction can rid the thought, taste, and even the scent of blood.

Except Alice. Oh Alice, my love. Why do you love me? How can you love me? I am a monster, hideously barbaric and destructive, whilst you are a butterfly- carefree and loving, yet your love is of gentle quality. Alice, what is wrong with me? You can resist the scent of blood with ease. Why can't _I_?

Oh Alice, why do you share my pain and suffering? My agony is not yours to bear. It shall be my burden for eternity, the blood shall only be a menace to me…

My thoughts once again drift to blood. My epiphany was correct indeed. Blood is _definitely_ all I think about. And it is certainly all I desire. God, if I could have one drop of blood. Maybe two, if I was unfortunate enough. Ah, I can just imagine it, the flow of fresh blood soothing my wounds, taking me into a place of euphoria-

"Shall we?" murmurs Rosalie, interrupting my thoughts and the unconscious process of venom pooling into my mouth.

I take a quick glance at what is a shabby and pitiful looking clock located at its designated post at the front of the room. It's two o'clock in the afternoon. It is unfortunate that every Monday afternoon at approximately two o'clock that I have English, probably the most boring and pathetic class I have at this boring and pathetic high school. Fantastic.

I exhale an exasperated sigh, before I tiredly heave my body, limb by limb, from the table. I see my siblings standing by the table, waiting for me with little impatience- they do not wish to go to class either. I only just notice Alice's absence; it is only a disgruntled looking Emmett, Edward and the impossibly beautiful Rosalie. No support from Alice…what am I to do?

Another hour to measure my limitations. Another hour to resist the exhilarating scents surrounding me. I can feel them stroking me, caressing me, waiting for me to give up and give in. But I will not.

I ignore the lush fragrance of blood meandering around the room, I am confident that I will not give in. I will fight what I call right and wrong. Good and evil. My lover and my enemy.

And as I walk through the cafeteria, almost trudging to English class, I freeze. The blood is too appealing for any resistance. I can feel the muscles in my body seize, tensing with the fear that I shall give up my resistance. Time has slowed down, with every movement exaggerated with precision. Maybe I could just have one small taste… but no. Instead, I just walk. Not backwards. But forwards. I ignore my instincts, those persuasive voices that have constantly led me astray. I walk out the cafeteria exit. And I don't look back.


End file.
